


It's a Fabulous USO Show!

by dinolaur



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 07:31:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1501952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinolaur/pseuds/dinolaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky makes it back from the assault at Azzano, and the Captain America Show tours the front.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Fabulous USO Show!

**Author's Note:**

> because the winter soldier was rough and I needed something ridiculous.

Their last assault had been rough, which, considering the casualty list, is the understatement of the year. Bucky Barnes sits still on a cot while a nurse checks the healing progress of the cut along his hairline. The damned thing had bleed like a bitch and required six stitches. The iodine she dabs it with stings, but he does his best not to wince. A lot of fellas came away from that fight with a whole lot worse than him.

He leaves the tent after the nurse rebandages his head, and Dugan finds him, loops an arm across his shoulders, and drags him off to where some of the others have set up a homemade still. It tastes like gasoline, but it’s liquor and does its job. Jones passes him a cigarette, and Bucky takes a long inhale.

He had quit smoking for years, as soon as he and Steve moved in together. The smoke aggravated Steve’s asthma, and even out on the fire escape it would blow into Steve’s room. Not to mention, Steve had just never approved, especially when Bucky had started it up so young. So Bucky had quit. But this war sucks, and it’s stressful and not at all like he thought it was going to be. Sometimes he just needs the burning in his lungs.

Falsworth finds them later and, after he accepts a drink and cigarette of his own, comments, “You chaps hear? Apparently we’re due for a treat. USO Show is coming through.”

Dugan whistles. “Tell me there’s girls, Monty.”

Falsworth smiles dryly. “Would I dare to get your hopes up otherwise?”

Dugan laughs and whistles again. Dernier pipes up, “ _J'entends la danse de la mascotte de l'Américain est la pièce maîtresse.”_

Bucky arches a brow, and Jones translates for the others. “America’s dancing mascot is the main act. Dancing mascot?”

“He probably means Captain America,” Morita says, breezing into the tent. He drops down heavy in front of Dugan’s cot. “You guys haven’t heard of him?”

“Kind of been fighting a war,” Bucky drawls.

“My company got to have a picture night a few months back,” Morita explains. “Guy’s apparently got a lot of propaganda films.”

“So what’s the deal,” Jones asks.

“According to the comics—don’t look at me like that, Dum Dum, I’ve got a kid nephew who loves ‘em—he’s this super soldier who is basically leading all us fighting boys out on the front lines. He’s the personification of America and all that jazz. My sister took the kids to see the show. They had fun with it.” He shrugs.

“So we’re getting a show fit for ten year olds,” Dugan asks with a sneer. He elbows Falsworth. “Thought you said there were girls.”

“Oh, but there are,” Morita says slyly. “Chorus girls. It’s a musical show.”

“That sounds ridiculous,” Bucky says.

“Oh, absolutely,” Morita agrees. “But are you about to turn down making friends with some lovely ladies?”

“Not a chance,” Bucky answers.

``

The show comes to the camp a couple of days later. It’s raining and muggy, and everyone is tried. Bucky trudges out with the other men and drops down to lean up against the wheel of a truck. He has a decent view of the stage.

A few minutes later there sounds a fanfare of trumpets, and a few lines of ladies hurry out onto the stage, dressed up in star spangled little outfits and with legs that go on for miles. The men all cheer, and the girls flash winning smiles. Bucky smiles a little bit. Sure, there are women out here, nurses, clerks, and even a few other agents, but almost none of them look that put together. There isn’t much room for curling your hair and painting your lips on the front. These show girls sure are a sight for sore eyes.

A man dressed in probably the most ridiculous outfit Bucky has ever seen in his life steps out onto the stage, and the girls start singing their song. The man poses with his shield and says, “Not all of us can storm a beach or drive a tank.”

Bucky freezes.

 _He knows that voice_.

But there is no way. The man standing on the stage, he is tall and obviously strong and muscular under the ridiculous costume. He is pretty much the exactly physical opposite of the scrawny shrimp Bucky left back in Brooklyn.

But Bucky would know Steve’s voice anywhere.

It doesn’t make any sense. Not even an act of God could make Steve grow that much in the few months that Bucky has been out here. He has to be hearing things. He misses Steve like nothing else. He is the only family Bucky has left, and this war is the first time they have ever been more than a couple of blocks away from each other. Bucky knows that he is home sick and severely disillusioned with this entire war, but he didn’t think it was so bad that he would be imagining Steve’s voice coming out of some show pony.

Because it’s just absurd.

Bucky rubs at his eyes and shakes his head. Just enjoy the show, he tells himself. Just enjoy the girls.

But he fucking can’t, because dammit, that is Steve’s voice.

He squints, leaning forward and wishing he had grabbed a seat closer to the stage. The man is wearing a hooded mask, and his jaw line is far too strong to be Steve’s, but it’s definitely his voice, and _how?_

“What’s the matter with you, Jimmy,” Dugan asks, nudging him sharply, and Bucky is so transfixed with trying to figure this out that he doesn’t even think to be irritated that Dugan blatantly refuses to call him Bucky or even just Barnes.

The song pauses for a brief moment, the girls all lined up while the man gives some kind of propaganda speech—ridiculous, just ridiculous to preach all this to troops—and another guy dressed up as Hitler sneaks up on him. He turns just in time to fake punch him out. The girls start back up again, and the man turns this oddly sheepish little smile back out to the audience.

Bucky feels like all the air has been sucked right out of his lungs. It’s Steve. He doesn’t know how in the fuck this happened, but that is his best friend up there.

Up on a stage wearing fucking tights.

A wide grin slowly stretches Bucky’s lips.

``

The girls finish their song to loud cheers and whistles from the troops. They take their bows and rush off the stage. As soon as they leave it becomes deathly quiet. Steve has never had an audience this still before. Usually there are lots of kids fidgeting in their seats. He feels ridiculous continuing the show—really doing it at all—in front of a bunch of fully grown men, but he steps up to the microphone like he has done dozens of times and says, “How many of you are ready to help me sock old Adolf on the jaw?”

For the span of about five long seconds there isn’t a sound to be heard. Then from around the back of the audience someone starts laughing. It’s loud and wild and hysterical, and it doesn’t sound like it will stop any time soon.

Everyone turns to stare at the man, and those closest scoot away with baffled expressions.

For a moment Steve is about to be annoyed. Sure, this show is dumb and everything, but laughing at him like that is just plain rude. He opens his mouth to say something, but the man starts gasping loudly, “Oh my God. Oh my fucking God.”

Steve freezes.

He knows that voice.

His embarrassed grumble of “Dammit, Bucky,” echoes through the camp.

Bucky doesn’t stop laughing.

 


End file.
